My Black Hand Around His Throat
by The Tygre
Summary: Sauron tells Aragorn how he failed, and why the Lord of the Rings seeks victory.


"_Jamais on ne fait le mal si pleinement et si gaiement que quand on le fait par conscience._"

Blaise Pascal

_"It is told that Buddha, going out to look on life, was greatly daunted by death. "They all eat one another!" he cried, and called it evil. This process I examined, changed the verb, said, "They all feed one another," and called it good."_

Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Do you think me an evil being, for what I have done? Do you think that everything I did I did out of spite?

You do not know me. You do not know why I stand here as I am. Let me tell you, oh 'King' Aragorn, of myself. You know me as Sauron, the Dark Lord of the Rings. And you are right. And so, my gift to you, one king to another, will be to tell you of how you failed.

Thank my previous master, Melkor. Before I was here, before you or men or orcs or Minas Tirith, there was Melkor. He was cast from his home, or perhaps he left, and most believe that it was a little bit of both. But I went with him, and with me came the spirits that would later be balrogs, werewolves, and vampires. You thought them only legends? They are real, so very real. My master was a lord of cold and darkness, scarred and covered in wounds. He was a tower of black armor, and his weapon was the Hammer of the Underworld, Grom. I was proud to be his general. But I am straying.

One of my companion spirits was Ungoliant, the Mother of Spiders. She vomited darkness and consumed light. Once, she and my master were allies, and she destroyed the trees of the Sun and Moon with him. They fled to this world, and she turned on him in her hunger. He was able to escape, but she was never heard from again. All that is known is that she survived to produce a new progeny of hideous god-spiders. And among them was Shelob.

I kept her in the caves and tunnels leading to Cirith Ungol. When I say 'I kept her' there, that is to say that I prevented her from wandering by providing her with sacrifices of orcs and occasionally more humanoid prisoners. Bloated with a constant food supply, she found little reason to leave, and instead remained, spinning new webs of darkness and carrying on her mother's legacy. I never prompted her forward, or tried to persuade her to join my armies in battle. I had learned from my master: she is a creature of the night, blackness and hunger incarnate. She serves no one except what can feed her.

And that is where the Ring steps in. The two halflings entered into the webs of Shelob, guided by their deformed brother. I had been watching the crippled one ever since he left my tower. There was never a better bloodhound for what was mine ever bred. Not even the Nazgul could find the Ring as well as he could, and they were made for it. I sent my riders to try and claim the Ring numerous times, but I was always met with several…distractions. You and your sniveling race cost me my prize more than once. But I can see you will no longer be a problem. Suffice to say, the halflings wandered into Shelob's trap. The Ring-bearer was poisoned and paralyzed within a matter of minutes. His companion tried to save him, but the misshapen one stepped in. They fought, and at last threw each other into a deep crevasse. I saw their skulls crack, the blood run, the disgusting humanoid matter slide from their heads. Shelob feasted well that night, and I was able to reclaim the Ring with minimal orc losses. A good victory.

Did you honestly think you could win? Did you honestly think that you could attain success with a few hundred horse-riders and minute-men in armor, compared to_thousands_ of creatures spawned for war, with no thought but your destruction? Perhaps you thought that the elves and their archers, with the Prince of Mirkwood leading them, would help? Let me tell you now, some strategies fail in light of overwhelming force. And I can think of little more overwhelming to archers and then legions of armored mountain trolls. The dwarf berserker was simple as well. Infantry and cavalry were suffering because of him. A 500 foot drop from the claws of a Fell Beast? Not even a dwarf lord can survive that. Your wizard was the most difficult, though. I had to come out for him personally. I finally saw fit to take a physical form again.

I forgot how good a body can feel. Two eyes see so much better than one. I forgot the little joys of choking life with my hands, with ten fingers I might add, of holding a sword and a mace. And I forgot how good feet are until I crushed that old man's skull under my heel. The blood is still in the tracks, as you can see. And now I have you here, in my own palm. I'm going to do to you what your ancestor did to me, little king. I'm going to rip every necessary piece off of you and watch you squirm and writhe before I kill you. But before that, I will tell you here, in front of these thousands of orcs and trolls, why I am here.

In my home, there are dozens of gods. And in that, I saw chaos. A dozen supreme beings striving to achieve a single goal. And while they were in harmony when I left with my master, I saw their future. In time, they will squabble and grow corrupted and complacent. The lives of millions of beings will be at stake for their petty reaches. My master knew what had to be done; they had to be destroyed for their own sake. Stop the wars and the bickering, stop the hatred before it could begin. One god, one people, one purpose and unity for all. When my master died, I took up his mantle. And there will be one god: Sauron, Lord of the Rings. We were called discordant, but we are only tuning the instruments.

And that is what will happen now. No more petty men and dwarves and elves warring amongst themselves. A single empire of strength. Things will evolve will betterment of this world, not stagnantly decay in its own waste. Do you see the orcs behind me? They are still the perfect examples of this hope. Every moment of their lives is suffering without respite. But in my world, they will not receive love or sympathy, only tribulation. And out of that suffering, they will grow strong and beautiful. And so it will be with the uruks, and the trolls, and the men of the south. A single world, a single people, under a single god. And we will sail across the oceans and we will crush the old gods for the glory of the new empire. Only then can there be peace.

Goodbye, King Aragorn. I destroy you now as a gift to my faithful servants. They will enjoy the rending of your tender flesh. Perhaps, your public execution will be made into a holy day years from now. After that, it is onward to Minas Tirith. Take a deep breath: the screams need to be loud.

* * *

**So, yeah. I wrote this as a part of an online writing contest at BettingOnAlice. When I get there, I find that the entire thing has packed up and left.**

**I don't believe J.R.R. Tolkien ever knew what Fan Fiction was, much less that he would be inspiring so much of it. **

**But, here we are.**

**If you thought this was crap:**

**Get over it. Smart ass comments and flames aren't going to stop me from writing.**

**If you thought that I portrayed Sauron out of character:**

**Let me ask you this: Do you know how a god of fire, destruction, and evil thinks? I don't, and I actually **_**read**_** the Silmarillion.**

**If you thought this was okay or better:**

**Thanks. I do what I can.**


End file.
